The Scheme Unveiled

[MithrilQuill]

The Scheme Unveiled

*drumroll*


There’s a thread that contains the best drabbles some of our talented authors have some out with. They were submitted by the authors themselves or others that really loved them over the past couple of weeks. It’s been renamed The Eternal Glory thread… (because I’m getting really unoriginal like that…)


Those Drabbles will not receive points and no winners will be chosen, but we’re now going to put them to good use.


Your challenge is to take any of these drabbles (not your own) that really moved you for some reason or another or one that you really liked and write a “drabble response” to it…


The response can be a continuation of the events, an alternate theory where you show what you think is more likely to happen in a situation like the one described in the drabble, or even an attempt to try a new style or literary tool that you felt the author of that drabble used very well. Your aim is to try and touch the readers of your drabble somehow, all in five hundred words!


When this thread begins to fill up a little more you can use some of the drabbles in here to respond to as well.


Points will be awarded for any Drabbles that show a good effort etc. (ie no official "winners" or anything)


Please use the following form for submissions:


Name:
House:
Title:
Drabble you’re responding to: (title and original author)
Why? (what inspired you to respond to it, what did you like most about it, etc)
Warnings:
Words:


I hope you all have loads of fun with this. Also, let me know(in the Questions thread please) if you have any suggestion or if you just liked this idea, because as some of you may have guessed this is a pilot trial for something else I’ve been planning for a while.

*hugs*

[Sly Severus]

I decided to try a continuation of one of the wonderful drabbles in the Eternal Glory thread.

Name: Sly Severus
House: Slytherin
Title: One of Them
Drabble you’re responding to: Her Eyes by hansolohpfrk
Why? I loved this drabble. I was drawn into Narcissa's pain and the OC was handled very well.
Warnings: None
Words: 499 (I had to crop it :( )


My eyes locked with his pale blue ones. Narcissa had spoken the truth; he had her eyes. There was no denying who he was. The look way he looked at me caused my heart to break. His eyes held the same fear and despair that I had seen in hers the last time I spoke to her—when she realized that it was over.

We were left alone. The young man remained a safe distance away, clearly unable to trust me. This seemed reasonable. The way Narcissa had spoke, he was taking a big risk just to be out in the opened.

“I knew her,” I told him, knowing that simply speaking could cause him to flee.

He said nothing, watching me suspiciously. However, he did not turn to leave. This told me that it was safe to continue.

“She spoke about you a lot,” I went on. “It was clear how much she loved you. She would be happy to know that you’re safe.”

“How do you know who I am?” he finally spoke, although suspicion remained etched on his face.

“You have her eyes.”

In that moment the mistrust and fear left his pale blue eyes, but it was replaced with something worse—pain and loss. Tears formed in his eyes and he looked away from me as though he was ashamed. I wanted to comfort him, but I was worried that it would finally cause him to run. For some reason, I wanted him to stay—I needed him with me.

“She was always so proud of that,” he said at last. “She told everyone that I had her eyes. I think it was because other than my eyes, I am a complete replica of my father. She liked to see a part of herself in me. I loved her, but I let her rot in Azkaban while I went free.”

“That was what she wanted,” I told him. “She loved you. Knowing that you were safe kept her going for a long time.”

“She didn’t deserve to be in that cell, but I do. It’s not fair.”

I wanted to keep talking to him. I wanted to help him, but I wasn’t given the chance. Before I could say anything more we were greeted by the sound of heavy footsteps.

The look of pain and longing was again replaced with fear. He may have felt that he deserved Azkaban, but it was obvious that he was not ready to go there. I was glad. It was the last thing that Narcissa would ever want for her child.

“Go,” I whispered. “I’ll hold them back.”

A look of surprise crossed his face, revealing his shock that I would want to help him. Quickly, he mouthed the words, “Thank you,” and then he was gone.

I smiled as I walked towards the approaching footsteps. Narcissa had been wrong about one thing. There were people who wanted to help her and her son. I was one of them.


Mithril Says: Nice, 5 points to Slytherin!

[MissPurplePen]

Name: MissPurplePen
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Into the Field
Drabble you’re responding to: Dragon Crazy by Masked One
Why? I'd never thought of what Charlie's job might be like, or, on another note, what his life in general might be like. I liked the way MO portrayed him, and the humor of the original drabble was just right, without being overbearing. It really investigated Charlie's character, and in such few words, so I was really drawn to it. This is simply continuing what happens after 'Dragon Crazy' ends.
Warnings: None
Words: 499

Into the Field
All day they’d put me to the beginner jobs; after I’d finished the manure-removal, I’d worked in the labs collecting magical bacteria for the Welsh Green’s scale rot, and then I’d sat through the most agonizing lecture ever written. But not once all day had I been allowed into the field—sure, I got to summon dung for a few hours, but I wasn’t let inside the pens. But I wanted to get in…so badly. I’d heard the dragons’ roars, seen their fiery breath shooting straight into the air. And I wanted to be with them, to see their rage and their beauty, but I couldn’t.

It was about six-thirty now, and all of us were gathered in the dinner hall. It was less a dinner hall and more of a camp cafeteria, complete with long, rickety wooden tables and a stuffy room temperature. The food was hot, though, and it tasted good, no matter how fooling its appearance was.

I sat at the farthest table, which ran along a wall of open windows. The night breeze hit me perfectly, hugging me in its cool arms as I dug into the steak-and-kidney pie on my tray. From where I sat I could see streams of fire bursting upward against the black sky.

Just then someone sat down across from me. I focused on the newcomer: a woman. She had thick, wavy, auburn hair that fell about her shoulders and clear, blue-grey eyes. I glanced at her left wrist and saw a rag tied around it. Hers was yellow, unlike my white one. She’d been here a few years.

She smiled. She didn’t show her teeth; it was a very nice smile. “You’re a white-rag,” she remarked, taking a swig of butterbeer.

I nodded. “S’my first day…spent a wondrous time removing manure and listening to Jenkins ramble on for hours. Are all first days like that?”

She laughed. “For the most part. You won’t get into the field for a few months.” She smiled again; she was very pretty.

When she looked down and started into her own food, I looked behind her out the windows again. Above one of the pen-walls I saw the tip of a long, black, scaly tail swish upward, shimmering with the reflections of the stars.

“Let me guess,” she said, apparently noticing the expression of longing my face had undoubtedly taken. “You want to get into the field, right?”

“Is it that obvious?” I asked, still gazing toward the pens.

“Everyone does when they first start out,” she said. Then she smiled in a secretive, mischievous way. “You know, not everyone has to wait a few years to get into the pens. If you know the right people, I mean.” She kept her eyes fixed on mine.

“And what do you mean by that?” I asked, cottoning on.

She took another swig of butterbeer and stood up. “Meet me outside the kitchen doors at midnight.” And she picked up her tray and walked away.



Mithril Says: 5 points to Hufflepuff!

[nysuperstarz]

Name: Nysuperstarz
House: Slytherin
Title: Understanding
Drabble you’re responding to: Only Us by: mspadfoot89
Why? I really truly loved it. It was a wonderful piece of work that really just showed Hermione's feelings so well. I really thought it was an awesome piece of work :)
Warnings: None
Words: 274

Understanding

I watched her as I lay on the ground, huddled up in a ball, leaning against a tree. It was a cool summer night, quiet and undisturbed. She sat on a rock, the bushes around her engulfing her in shadow. Her head was bent as she wrote something in that journal of hers. Every free moment that she had seemed to be spent writing in that journal. She titled her head deep in thought and continued to write. The war seemed to have taken a toll on her, her forehead was etched with frown lines and her eyes seemed to reflect all the horrors she has seen through the past few months. All because of me. She was strong and I was seeing more and more of that as the war went on. War was a horrible thing but she understands that it sometimes it's the only way. We are all fighting for our rights and others rights, something that we shouldn't have to fight for. Most people just leave at that, but she understands. She understands what this means to me, I guess this means something to her too. We've watched too many human beings murdered ruthlessly right in front of our eyes; they were hopeless, weak and unwilling to fight. No, I will not be like them, I will not be another sad story, another one of those helpless people who have lost the will to fight, who've lost a reason to live. She understands that, she understands me. "You have no idea how much that means to me." I whispered as I closed my eyes to go to sleep.


*its told from Harry's point of view of the original drabble*

~Roop


5 points to Slytherin!

[Gonz]

Name: Gonz
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Alone on Christmas
Drabble you’re responding to: Black Christmas by Madame Marauder
Why? I was drawn to this drabble byMadMar's style. I was impressed with how by calling the narrator you, she brought the reader into the drabble and made them emotional involved. I really liked that style and the story so I attempted to tell the tale from Sirius' view using the same style. All the dialogue is MadMar's, and as for the rest, my hope is that I have managed to retain some of the magic of the original in my retelling.
Warnings: None
Words: 383
You are sitting, sitting in a cell; a cell in the most infamous prison in the world. You are thinking, not yelling crazed sayings or shaking in your sleep or wishing that you would die, you are just thinking.

You are thinking that today should be a day of celebration, a day spent with friends now dead or lost to you. You look and see that you are not the only person stuck in this prison, maybe you’re not the prisoner after all.

“Merlin,” you say. “You’re stuck here on Christmas too?”

You see the shocked look on the guard’s face. No surprise, you are not supposed to talk to them. You are supposed to be like everyone else. But you know you’re not. You are innocent. You are trapped in this prison, just like the guard. No, the guard isn’t trapped, the guard can go home. You laugh when you realize this, because that makes your first statement false.

Still laughing, you continue talking, “But you’ll go home tonight, see your wife… your kids… You know, I have a godson. His name is Harry.”

You are confusing the guard now, but you don’t care. You need to talk. You need to talk about Harry, your previous godson who you would give the world to see.

“He’s in an orphanage now, I ‘spect,” you continue, your voice cracking. “Merlin, would I have liked to have adopted him…”

“Black,” the guard says, finally speaking. “You really shouldn’t be telling me this.”

“But I want to,” you say softly. “I need to.”

You can’t really even explain your need to talk, your need for human companionship. You would think that deprived of it for so long that it wouldn’t matter to you anymore, but it does. You watch as the guard leaves to comfort another who will never even notice. You need comfort, can’t they see? You are still sane.

“I’m not like her, you know,” you say when the guard returns. “I’m not crazy. I am innocent.”

Your words sound desperate to you and they are. For a second you think that they may have had an affect, but the second passes and the guard leaves. Probably going home, just like you said. Now it’s just you. Alone is how you celebrate your Christmas.


Mithril Says: Great drabble and nice use of a slightly "different" style, you handled the second person POV very well. 10 points to Hufflepuff!

[phily]

Name: Phily
House: Hufflepuff!
Title: All too aware
Drabble you’re responding to: 'Unaware' by Mind Games
Why? Well, when I read this drabble I found it very powerful. It had an ironic quality to it due to Sirius' oblivious view and at the same time this made it particularly sad to read. Also, as it was in the first person but with a hint of looking back at the situation years later, it allowed a comparisson of the parent/child relationship then to the one of now.
Warnings: None
Words: 287

This is from the point of view of Sirius' mother, and is her take on what Sirius described in Mind Games' drabble. Enjoy!

We have brought him this far. We have taught him everything he needs to become a credit to our family; the deeply honoured, and greatly respected Blacks.

We come into sight of the Hogwarts Express, other children crowding the platform. They all look excited, yet sad to leave their families. As I look down at my son I know that I will not fuss. I have not made sandwiches for his journey, nor did fold his clothes neatly into his trunk for him. My son is not to be wrapped in cotton wool all his life, for now he faces his future on his own and I will leave him to do so.

An apprehensive expression begins to creep into Sirius’ young face. I look to his father to set an example. He stands straight and proud, and in response to my prompting look, he claps a hand on his son’s shoulder. The boy’s back immediately becomes as straight as a ruler. He is now ready to leave.

“Make us proud,” says his father in an almost commanding manner.

I just nod in the direction of the scarlet train and he turns to leave. As he reaches the train, he looks back at us. I keep my gaze expressionless, but notice that my husband has already turned his back upon the steam train. Unlike others, we will not show childish emotions in such a public place.

As I too, slowly walk away from my son, there is no doubt in my mind. No choice was ever given to me, and in turn he must take up the name and reputation of the noble household from which we were raised.

“There is no way he can falter, now.”

Phily :)


Mithril Says: Great Drabble and a very interesting POV, 10 points to Hufflepuff.

[Sly Severus]

I hope it's okay to post again. Points were already awarded for the first entries and I didn't want this to me missed.

Name: Sly Severus
House: Slytherin
Title: Alone
Drabble you’re responding to: Small Green Dress by AstroFire
Why? I loved this drabble. I particularly liked the way the relationship between the Black sisters was conveyed.
Warnings: None
Words: 499


The attic looked the same. She knew it was foolish of her to believe that it would look any different. The house had been vacant for many years, but even when the house was a home, the attic had only been used for storage.

She was uncertain as to why she was there. This had been her childhood home, but she had not darkened this doorstep in years, not since her parents had died. The Blacks had left three daughters, who had their own lives, marriages, and no use for the home.

Of course, Andromeda wouldn’t have been able to inherit the house had she wanted it anyway. She had been cut from the will, and their lives, the moment she choose to marry a Mudblood. At the time, it seemed like the worst thing anyone could do. Since then she had seen far worse.

Shaking her head, she tried to figure out why she was there. The house was reasonably safe, as it had been abandoned for so many years, but she no longer cared about safety. If she died, she would be reunited with her family. What more could she ask her? What reason did she have to cling to life?

Sitting on the dust covered floor, she pulled opened one of the boxes. Reaching inside, her hand brushed across a soft and expensive feeling fabric. As she pulled it out, a smile crossed her face. The tiny green dressed looked almost as dastardly as it had the day her older sisters had decided to wash it.

Andromeda had been so proud of herself when she arrived in their room, covered in dirt. It was probably her earliest rebellion. Even Bella had been proud of her little sister when she showed no fear of their mother’s wrath.

Closing her eyes, she replayed the moment in her mind. She could remember the smell of the soap and squishy feeling of the dress as they played with the fabric. In that moment, she had felt so close to her sisters. She was certain that their bond could never be broken.

But it was broken. It was broken by marriage and by Azkaban. She lost Andromeda to a Mudblood and Bella to Dementors. Now it was too late. They were both truly gone and she could never have them back. Her son and her husband were gone as well.

Tears touched her eyes. It wasn’t fair. How could one lose their entire family to a war? Was her family really that disposable and unimportant to the rest of the world? Even the niece she never knew had been lost.

She wished she had been closer to all of them. Happy memories of her family should have been plentiful, and yet there was so few. Clinging to the small green dress, she realized that she had wasted every opportunity to show her family how much she loved them. Now she was left alone, with nothing but a dress to for comfort.


Mithril Says: Dude, if people keep up writing these characters so well I might have to start liking them. *shudder*...kidding, 10 points to Slytherin!

[Hermione Weasley xx]

Name: Hermione Weasley xx [Emma]
House: Hufflepuff. Go badgers! ;)
Title: Captivated
Drabble you’re responding to: Ink Stains by Hel
Why? First of all, I haven't written a Ron/Hermione story in some time and this gave me the perfect idea for one of my own! It was quite inspiring, the whole idea of Ron coming to Hermione and discovering the truth that way. I just liked the simplicity of it; it all seemed so complex and yet, beneath it all, it was quite simple. A very sweet story that I enjoyed reading and so I knew I had to respond to it.
Warnings: None.
Words: 498

He was thinking about her again. She clouded his mind and his emotions until he could think of nothing else. Merlin, that was terrible – he was meant to be focused on the approaching war! He was meant to be focusing on anything but her, on anything but the way her skin would feel against his lips, her lips against his own. And yet, she’d seized control of him. She’d become so engrained in him that he found he could focus on nothing else.

She was his soul. Oh, she’d mercilessly wrenched him from whatever ignorance he’d lived in before. No, that was denial. He couldn’t imagine not feeling this way for her; he couldn’t imagine his heart ever craving anything – anyone – else. It never had.

He was wrought with desire. It went beyond needing her. He breathed her. Merlin, if he’d known of love when he was young…. Ah, ignorance could not be so easily won back. Perhaps it was the wisest person in the world who told of ignorance being bliss.

And yet – he could not imagine anything more blissful than being near her. Every time she leaned toward him – every time she got close, when her hair lightly tickled his shoulder – he felt she’d given him wings. And when she chewed on her bottom lip at those times when nervousness overcame her…Merlin, she drove him mad.

Did she even know what she did to him? His mind was nowhere else and yet still he’d found no courage to tell her how he felt. Of course, how he really felt…that was impossible to put into words. He couldn’t explain how she captivated him or how she’d become a part of him, forever in his heart. He knew that it would take more than an eternity to dismiss her from his thoughts. And even then…

Ron caught sight of her. A smile touched the corners of his lips as he watched her, unable to seek out anything else. With her there, all else faded.

She appeared troubled. He ought to appear the same, though with her there the war seemed insignificant. He struggled to remember why he should be worried. Struggled to remember anything but the way her hair fell in front of her eyes and how she brushed it maddeningly away.

Had she spilled ink upon herself? He stepped forward, whispering what he hoped was the correct spell. And – yes! He’d done it. A triumphant grin spread across his lips as he stood there, before her, unable to believe he’d remembered anything else. He nodded at her thanks, his eyes tracing the fine, neat handwriting with which she wrote.

No. That was impossible. His eyes read and reread the words there, upon the page, written by herown slender hand. He opened his mouth to speak, couldn’t. Opened it again and finally spoke the words he’d always wished he had the courage to say. Somewhere inside him, he found the reservoirs of his Gryffindor courage.

“I love you.”


Mithril SaYS: 5 points to Hufflepuff!

[kumydabookworm]

Name: kumydabookworm
House: Gryffindor
Title: For Sale
Drabble you’re responding to: Mouse by Sly Severus
Why? I wondered why Ted bought the house if he was ashamed of it.
Warnings: None
Words: 216

Ted looked around the darkened rooms, footsteps creaking on the old wooden floor. Opening a drawer, he winced when he saw a spider scuttle across the papers inside. Meda hates spiders.

He turned and nearly bumped into the realtor hovering anxiously behind him.

“What do you think, Mr. Tonks? It needs some finishing touches, but you can afford it and I think it’s a good fit,” rushed the man.

Ted frowned. He wasn’t going to get anything better at the price he could pay, but…Meda lived in mansions, for Christ’s sake – in the plural form, at that. He shook his head. How can I expect her to leave all that she has…for me?

“It looks alright,” he muttered, watching the dust swarming in the sunlight of the opened windows.

He pocketed the key, weighing it in his palm.

Meda had been waiting so long – he wouldn’t let her leave her family to come with him until they had a home. Even this would be worth it…to be with her for the rest of his life.

He signed the paper with a decisive sweep, biting his lower lip as if to stifle his thoughts.

We’ll make it worth it. Together. He gripped the key tighter; his future, his family so close that he could nearly touch them.

Name: kumydabookworm
House: Gryffindor
Title: Lovers
Drabble you’re responding to: He Cannot See by coppercurls (a recommended drabble, not posted one)
Why? I wondered what happened after her drabble!
Warnings: Sexual Situations
Words: 491

Helga immediately stopped as both men spun to look at her. Their eyes lit a fear inside her that made her footfalls flutter.

Godric moved to sweep her aside by putting a hand on her bared shoulder, and Salazar hissed in warning. Helga brushed off her irritation – he still thinks I’m someone he can control – and straightened her back.

“Salazar, please,” she said, meeting him stare for stare, “stop this before it tears us apart.”

Salazar spat, “Did I start it? No, Helga, it was you that started it. Magic has never been passed to those not of our blood! There is a reason for that, and you violate all natural laws that have ever –”

Helga shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. There is a better way to solve this than with wands.”

Helga gestured at Salazar. “Put it away, Salazar.”

“I will not,” he asserted.

“You ask for this foundation to crumble if you hold your wand against friends.”

“When that ring on your hand stayed and your husband left, it began to crumble.”

She turned white. “Godric, leave.”

He was scarlet with rage. “Helga, he goes too far.”

“Leave,” she commanded. He did.

Salazar turned his back. “You’ve done this all, not I. If you had not chosen to take my bed, perhaps I could have overcome this. ”

Helga took a shuddering breath. I have this kindness in me yet.

“We can disagree, Salazar. It does not mean that we should attack each other on the grounds that we have created!”

Salazar turned to her. “You betray me, Helga – with every move that you make to put Godric and Rowena on your side.”

Helga breathed, “It’s not about sides. None of us are taking sides!”

“Aren’t we? Didn’t Godric come here to defend your honor?” He laughed bitterly. “Your husband left and you took my bed, and now your honor must be preserved.”

Helga slapped him and his mouth froze in the middle of that terrible laugh. “I did not take your bed alone, Salazar,” she spat. “It was comfort. Do not hold that against a friend.”

“A friend,” he mused. “Is that what you would call yourself?”

Her eyes blurred but she stepped back. “I will always love you as much as I love Godric and Rowena, no matter what you think.”

The rage left Salazar’s face, leaving flushed cheeks and raw edges. “And I only love those who I trust. You have betrayed me, Helga.”

Helga reached a hand out. “Will you see it no other way? Can you not see it as one night of comfort instead of a romance, or as a compromise for the school instead of betrayal?”

Her hand was left in the air, unanswered. She pulled it back and Salazar’s face took on a hard mask that made him look a stranger. My poor, poor boy. He cannot see.

Rage left her, leaving only the hollow space of regret.



Mithril Says: 10 points to Gryffindor

[pheonixflame]

Name: pheonixflame
House: Gryffindor
Title: A Father's Strength
Drabble you’re responding to: Love I by mugglemathdork
Why? I loved its repetition; it gave the drabble a lot of power. It also left room open for Draco to relay the "phrase" to his own child. Basically, it just caught my eye. :)
Warnings: None.
Words: 499

You look down at the newborn in your arms, at his chubby cheeks and rosy nose, and your heart softens immediately. “Love, I love you so much. I will never allow harm to come to you,” you whisper to the boy, your eyes glazing over in childhood memories.

You recall how your mother had oft repeated these two simple lines, murmuring them to herself, or speaking them aloud to you. A vivid memory of a screaming woman, followed by a cold voice and flash of green, surfaces up to your eyes, and you shake it away, startled.

The baby in your arms fusses, yearning for attention. Short arms wave around in front of your gray eyes before they close over your nose.

You smile.

***

Your young son toddles around the house, and you follow, always right behind him, making sure he finds no sharp table edge and no trinket to swallow.

The boy nears the knife you have carelessly left on the kitchen table earlier. Just as he reaches out with his small hand and even more delicate fingers, you scoop him up into your arms out of harm’s way and tickle him. A smile and a laugh escape his lips, his eyes lighting up happily.

“Love, I love you so much. I will never allow harm to come to you,” you murmur, more to yourself than to your child.

***

Love, I love you so much. I will never allow harm to come to you.

You have to tell your son the truth. At school, he’ll only face hardships if he doesn’t hear it from you first.

“Son.”

The boy looks up at you with ice-gray eyes. You avoid them, steeling yourself for what you’re about to tell him.

“There’s something you should kn— ” You finally meet your son’s gaze and your courage fails you. “I love you. Make us proud at school,” you end lamely, forcing a weak smile.

***

You find yourself sitting at your twelve-year-old son’s side one cloudy day.

“How come you never told me?” the boy snarls.

You look away, unable to come up with an answer. Thoughts race through your mind as you wonder why you’ve kept it from him for so long. Love, I love you so much. I will never allow harm to come to you. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” you finally whisper.

Your reply is ignored. “A Death Eater,” your son spits, the words like venom on his tongue.

***

You walk out of your bedroom to find your son standing in the hall, a trunk and bags at his side. You sigh, but keep a strong mind.

“You’re ready?”

He nods.

You knew this was coming. You had your warning, and yet the blow is no less painful than before.

You pull him into a hug as he says, “Goodbye, father.”

Your heart pains you. You are just barely able to make out, “Love, I love you so much. I will never allow harm to come to you.”


~Mari


*cries* 10 points to Gryffindor

[BeautifulDreamer07]

Name: BeautifulDreamer07
House: Gryffindor!
Title: Hopefully
Drabble you’re responding to: Master of Puppets by Eponine
Why? I think it accurately and powerfully describes Voldemort's feelings about his Death Eaters. I hope I can capture the same emotions, only in reverse.
Warnings: Angsty? *shrug*
Words: 277

I've gotten in too far. They are asking me...no. That's not right. He is asking me to do things that I simply cannot do. I am disgusted with myself. I can no longer stand to be in his presence.

The others, my "comrades", all think they have gained his favor. Each and every one of them thinks they are his favorite, his most trusted, his friend. I doubt that the Dark Lord has ever truly had a friend. Maybe having friends was his original intention. He lost sight of that somehow, though. We are not his friends. We are his playthings...his puppets. And he is our puppet master.

He reigns over us. He controls our every move. Fear, hatred, and terror keep us in line. None of us can stand up to him because we know the price of doing so. It's a lifetime of service...or death. But what am I saying? Nobody wants to stand up to him. They think nothing of the crimes and horrible things they are doing. They are heartless...soulless...guiltless.

But, I, Regulus Arcturus Black, can no longer sit back and watch the Dark Lord's treachery. I can no longer look on dispassionately as he tears families apart, murders those who dare resist him, and kills those who have "dirty blood". I must do something. I must stop him.

I will pretend for a little while longer, until my mission is complete, and then I will die at the hands of the Dark Lord. Hopefully, my death will not have been in vain. Hopefully, I will succeed. Hopefully, I can die semi-peacefully, knowing I did my part in defeating the Dark Lord. Hopefully...hopefully...


Hopefully I have captured something of a Death Eaters feelings. Not a fanatic like Bellatrix, but...yea. Hope you like it!


Mithril says: great drabble! 5 points to Gryffindor.

[tc015]

Name: tc015
House: Gryffindor
Title: Almost Original
Drabble you’re responding to: Original, Indeed by Gmariam
Why?: I loved Remus’s reaction to the prank. I found it hilarious that the Marauders did the prank before. I really want to write the original prank.
Warnings: None
Words: 408

Remus Lupin sighed, trying not to laugh too loudly.

It was a brilliant plan. James had thought it would funny to plan a big prank to play at the Halloween feast in their first. Ever since then, they had been pulling their annual Halloween prank, and after four years, they were running out of ideas. That was when Remus came up the perfect idea.

Peter would brew the potion, as he was the best at Potions out of all the friends. James went to talk to the house elves about their choice of drink for the evening because the little elves adored him. Sirius and Remus went into the Great Hall ahead of time to set up the seating arrangements.

That night, the four friends took their cleverly selected seats, and watched as the whole prank played out. Professor McGonagall looked outraged as she tried to fix her bright pink hair, and Lily Evans gave James a dirty look as she tried to hide her bright blue hair.

“You will pay for this, Potter!” she shrieked from across the table

“Me?” said James nonchalantly. “I didn’t do a thing. Though I have to say, blue is really your color, Evans.” James looked at his friends and winked.

Evans just sighed and rolled her eyes. Meanwhile, the Slytherin table was roaring with laughter. Snape’s hair was green to match his envious self. He looked enraged, ready to strike the first person who laughed at it with a Bat Bogey Hex.

Remus looked at his friends, trying to hide his laughter, as Professor Dumbledore came up to the group.

“You know,” said Dumbledore, “that this was a brilliant plan.”

“Thank you, Professor,” said Sirius. “We’re glad you liked it.”

“As much I appreciate all you hard work,” he replied, pulling back his bright purple hair, “you will still have detention and twenty points from Gryffindor.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Remus said skeptically.

“No I am not, Mr. Lupin,” he said as he pulled out a vial. He tipped the vial over his head and watched his hair transformed back into its normal white.

“You know the antidote?” said Peter, shocked that someone had figured out his cleverly brewed potion.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore, “I have seen this prank before. Quite clever, isn’t it?”

The four boys looked at each other with shock. As Dumbledore turned around to leave, they noticed their hair was a pale orange.

Remus sighed. It was almost original.

Name: tc015
House: Gryffindor
Title: Halloween Hater
Drabble you’re responding to: Hang Halloween! by Gmariam
Why?: I thought the letter was hysterical. I really want to see the editor’s reply.
Warnings: None
Words: 341

Dear Ima Pickletoad,

I sorry to hear about your displeasure with Halloween. I can understand your anger with how Muggles are disrespecting the solemnity of the original holiday, but I have to disagree with you on certain things.

Halloween is a wonderful holiday. It brings cheer to our Muggle friends. It is a holiday that celebrates the power of magic and all of it wonders. It brings joy to Muggle children everywhere, and creates a uniting force between our worlds. It is personally my favorite holiday, and I know others feel the same.

I understand your appreciation for the original solemnity of the holiday. It was a time for us wizards to really try to understand the power of death. But you must understand the situation our community and the entire world, both Muggle and wizard, is in. We are in the middle of a war that we are losing. The Muggle world is being plagued with attacks and war also. What the world needs is one day where people of races, religions, and creeds can all take a moment to celebrate magic. Halloween gives everyone this opportunity.

The Ministry of Magic is right in supporting the Muggle celebration of Halloween. In fact, it is probably one of the brilliant things they have done. Their support of Halloween brings joy to Muggles around the world. Isn’t it just the thing we need right now – a little laughter, a sprinkle of happiness, a touch of excitement?

That is why you must understand, Miss Pickletoad, that Halloween should really be a time of joy and celebration. In today’s world, we already focus enough on death and despair. The last thing we need is a day to focus on it some more. We need a time of celebration, and that is what Halloween brings us.

I hope you realize where I am coming from. Also, you should know that it wasn’t some Muggle kids who defaced your house. I sorry to say it, but you are a real party pooper.

Yours truly,
The Editor


Mithril Says: 5 points to Gryffindor.

[Cwiddy]

Name: Cwiddy
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Beginnings
Drabble you’re responding to: Mouse by Sly Severus
Why? This story just caught my attention and begged to be continued!
Warnings: none
Words: 389

Ted discarded of the dead mouse and walked back into the family room to find Andromeda adding a few of her own touches to the room. He had to smile as she started to unpack the few possessions she had been able to bring with her. He stood in the kitchen door way as he watched her grimace at the moth eaten curtains. She pulled out her wand and tried to fix them with a bit of magic. He has to admit that they did look better when she was done with them.

Her spot in the room was a warm glow to his heart! What did he do to deserve this woman? She loved him enough to give up her family for him and what could he give her? A dingy house that needed repairs almost everywhere was all he had to offer. He hoped she never regretted leaving the Black mansion! He knew he could give her more love and happiness, but he lacked the physical possessions that she was used to being surrounded by with her family.

After the curtains she turned towards the wall and fixed the paint that was chipping on the walls. He never realized how bad it was until he brought her into the house. Now he felt a bit ashamed how out of repair he had allowed his home to get in. He moved into the room to assist in making the basic repairs.

“Reparo!” he exclaimed at the cracked floor boards that made the floor uneven. Andromeda quickly turned in his direction with a startled look, which almost looked a bit guilty, too. “Don’t look so guilty my love! I know this place needs a bit of work, and we can make it the perfect place to raise a family in, together.”

He walked over to his startled bride-to-be and pulled her into a tight embrace. “I will make this house as worthy of you as I can.”

“It is worthy of me,” Andromeda corrected. “You are here,” she said as she pulled his lips towards hers. “You are all I want and need, for now anyway. So where is our bedroom?” she asked with a sparkle in her eyes.

“Over there,” he said as he pulled her towards the room in which he hoped to spend many cozy nights.


~5 points to Hufflepuff

[red and gold]

Name: red and gold
House: Ravenclaw
Title: Nightmares Shared
Drabble you’re responding to:Harry's Not the Only One With Nightmares by Lily_writes
Why?I was touched by this story and thought it was very well-written. I desperately wanted to finish it by having Neville share his nightmare with Harry - especially since Harry’s the only one who could possibly understand - and he understands more than Neville realizes.
Warnings: reference to torture
Words: 500


Harry bowed his head for a moment. Not looking at Neville, Harry asked quietly, “It was about your mum and dad, wasn’t it?”

In all these years, Neville had not once spoken to Harry of his parents, and he wondered if he even could. Still, Harry continued to sit by Neville’s side in the darkness, this small gesture bringing the other boy some shred of comfort.

Wiping his face with a shaky hand, Neville spoke. His voice barely raised above a whisper, he said, “Yeah. It was my mum and dad. The night they were tortured by the Death Eaters.”

He glanced at Harry’s face, but all he could see in the darkness were Harry’s eyes - and yet not one ounce of pity did he spy, only sympathy. Neville took courage from this and the realization that if anyone could understand his hurt, Harry could. He bravely determined to continue on and for the first time in his life, talk to a friend about the night the two people dearest to him, though they still lived, were lost to him forever.

“I see it vividly. I’m only one or two years old, but I’m looking on as Death Eaters use the Cruciatus Curse on my dad until he collapses. I watch my mum run to his side and she’s crying, telling them she doesn’t know where their Dark Lord is. Then they do the same thing to her! And she’s screaming, Harry, my mum is screaming! There’s nothing I can do to help her!” Valiantly, he tried to hold back his racking sobs, but Harry placed his hand on Neville’s shoulder saying quietly, “It‘s all right, Neville. Just let it out.”

All the pain and resentment poured from Neville as he sat sobbing on the cold, hard floor of his dorm, yet he could think of no better place to be as he struggled with the horrors of his past. Neville’s sobs gradually tapering off into shaky gulps of air, he wiped his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his pajamas and told Harry, “Thanks for listening. I - I’ve never told anyone about these nightmares before.”

Harry smiled, saying, “If anyone understands what it’s like to have horrible nightmares, it’s me, Neville. Talk to me anytime - you’ve heard enough of my problems, I’m sure. It’s about time I returned the favor.”

Harry got to his feet and held out a hand to Neville, helping him up. Neville got back into bed and before he pulled the bed hangings closed, said, “Thanks again, Harry.”

“’Night, Neville,” said Harry, as he climbed into his own four poster.

It’s the least I can do, Neville. Two boys, one prophecy and you’ll never know how close you were to being “The Chosen One”. You’ll never know the burden of being marked as Voldemort’s equal, the impossible position of being the one that has to destroy the Dark Lord.

And knowing that your nightmares would be a blessing compared to your waking hours.


~ 5 points to Ravenclaw

[MorganRay]

Name: MorganRay
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Mark Me a Martyr
Drabble you’re responding to: StaceyLC’s Shamed
Why? I thought it was really different how she wrote Bella’s dad as NOT wanting her to join the DEs. I always thought he would support it, but the turn she gave to the situation was unique. Also, this turn added complexity to Bella’s character that I never though about, and I think I just like how Stacey writes.
Warnings: It’s second POV. I don’t know if that’s a warning . . . but I’m going to put it in the warning for those of you who don’t like 2nd POV.
Words: 429

You clench your hands when he tells you you’re wrong, but he ignores you. He’s seeing and hearing, but he doesn’t really read or listen, you think. For that matter, you’re not sure if he understands. No – you know he doesn’t understand.

He rebukes you, and you feel your pulse rise. He simply doesn’t understand the level of your commitment to the cause he claims to support. You realize ‘support’ is a strong word for the half-hearted effort into what he calls belief and dogma.

You laugh -- feel your confidence rise -- as he towers over you. No matter, you’re superior, and you show him the symbol of your pride. He is repulsed, and reminds you of your shameful sister. No, you realize it is not just her that is shameful, but he is shameful, too. Everything feels like it’s falling down on you, and now, you know you cannot trust your family.

With shouts fired across the room, boasts and words filled with defiance, you proclaim yourself like you’ve always imagined. For a moment, you consider making it the perfect drama and punishing him in the name of the Dark Lord, but you fly away into the night.

The cool air embraces, but your mind is spewing thoughts as a volcano shots lava and ash into the sky. It’s not just him, you know, but it’s all of them. It’s the family from which you were born -- the blood which has made you strong -- has been spoiled by them. In the scheme of fate, you know that they have squandered the precious gift of blood.

Blood, you know -- the blood in your veins -- makes you powerful, and you find the strength to move through this world. After a moment, you realize that you’re fingering the tattoo on your arm. It’s a sign of strength, of all that you are, epitomized in a simple black design. No – so much more than just a mark – it’s the very symbol of all that you believe.

You – who know you are the strongest of your blood to be born in this generation – are not ashamed of this blackness on your skin. Unlike him, you know what it means to be dedicated, and you reject that path of spewing words that cannot be supported by action. You know that hypocrisy is worse than being a traitor – like your sister and cousin – and you reject it.

You reject everything but the Mark on your skin. If you can’t trust your blood, you know there is nothing you can trust.


sounds alot like Bella! 5 points to Hufflepuff

[SnowyHedwig112]

Name: SnowyHedwig112
House: GRYFFINDOR
Title: Neville Was
Drabble you’re responding to: (title and original author) Ambition by Masked One
Why? (what inspired you to respond to it, what did you like most about it, etc) Because I think that Neville's death and the effect on Luna was very powerful, and the repetition of the word ambition in many different forms was very effective.
Warnings: Implied character death
Words: 229

“…Neville was, well, he was a good boy. He may not have gotten the highest marks in class, and he may not be the toughest, but he worked hard, and for that, I am proud of my grandson, Neville Longbottom, who indeed has given glory to the Longbottom name…”

Luna hardly listened as Augusta Longbottom spoke about Neville, about his friends, Harry, Ron, Hermione, herself, about his performance at school, about his participation in Order that lead to his death. She hardly cared that she, Luna “Loony” Lovegood, had been Neville’s avenger. She did not want to be known as “The-One-Who-Killed-Bellatrix-Lestrange”. She did not want to see people stare at her in awe the way they stared at Harry.

Her thoughts continued to run as Augusta Longbottom spoke on.

“…Neville, he had ambition. But not the sort of ambition He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had. He had ambition to be a good person, to help others. My boy Neville did not thirst for power, he did feed off of it, drink it, or crave it. He had a different sort of ambition.”

Then, Augusta Longbottom, still wearing her pheasant-stuffed hat in memory of Neville’s boggart, sat down. A disembodied elbow, someone, nudged Luna, and she stood up, and walked to the lonesome, towering podium which stood in front of an ivory-white casket.

“Neville was…he was everything Mrs. Longbottom said. And he was…my love.”

~Kathy


~ 5 points to Gryffindor

[Loralie]

Name: Loralie
House: Hufflepuff
Title: True Loyalty
Drabble you’re responding to: (title and original author) A Spotlight Shines on the Stage by Crazy_purple_hp_freak
Why? Actually, I had this small plot bunny in my head, and the I read this drabble, and the blot bunny got really hoppy. :) Afterall, Voldemort never really did feel love.
Warnings:
Words: 381

“Those belong in Hufflepuff
Where they are just and loyal
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil.”

Yup. Hufflepuff. That’s me. It’s surprised everyone that I wasn’t a Slytherin, especially my father. But Hufflepuff it is. At first I was angry, but over time I have come to enjoy myself. These are a great group of chumps… I mean kids. Oops, did I say that out loud? I guess I was put here because I do have a great amount of loyalty; it’s just that my loyalties are a little…um…unusual. At least unusual for a ‘Puff.

And I am certainly patient and not afraid to toil. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing these last six and a half years. Being patient. Toiling. I’m getting kinda sick of it as well. But it’s that loyalty for you. I was told to stay put, so stay put I did. I got phenomenal marks as well, because I figured I was stuck here; I might as well get an education. I’ll need that education when the time comes. And the time is coming.

I guess I should explain. My mother is a witch, and she loved my father more than anything. She would have died for him; in fact that’s exactly what she did. You would think that would have made me angry, but seeing how much she loved him made me realize how great a man he is. I know he doesn’t really love me, I don’t think he has time. He treats me just like any other of his servants, but I understand. He can’t show weakness. He can’t become attached. Someone might hurt me to get to him if they thought he really cared. If they even knew he was my father.

But it’s almost time. See, my father went away when I was little, but he came back recently. And at the end of this year, when I graduate, I get to join him and finally tell the world my true name. I will show them my true loyalty.
I will no longer be Anna Marie Orion, orphan.

I will be Anna Marie Orion, Princess.
Daughter of Lord Voldemort.

It has been said that every witch or wizard who ever went bad was a Slytherin.

Are they so sure?


~ 5 points to Hufflepuff

[mooglelover333]

Name: mooglelover333
House: gryffindor
Title: Maniac's Titter
Drabble you’re responding to: (title and original author) Ambition by Masked One
Why?: I loved this drabble, hands down, and I wanted to elaborate on one of the worst memories the author mentioned; I also had an idea for her leaving Azkaban.
Warnings: none
Words: 349

*thanks to Kumy for beta!!!*


I could feel them coming towards me.

Feel the pain in my veins.

My bones, the very marrow of them, were screaming at the memory of the pain.

I could see myself from above. There I was, shivering, shaking, shrieking on the floor. It made me sick, hate myself for being so weak. Like such a Muggle. I spit the word in my head.

“Betrayal,” the snake whispered in my ear.

The small, coherent part of my mind, the semi-sane part, screamed for me to “STOP!”

But the thing, the things, was standing in front of me, watching, I could feel it staring through my tattered, tortured soul. I raised my head a fraction before the pain could overcome my will. He was there. Red eyes, slit eyes, glowing eyes, laughing, ridiculing. It was all I could see in my exquisite agony.

Exquisite. The lucid division laughed a maniac’s titter at a thought of poetry.

The angel of my torment slinks even nearer. I live and relive the worst reality, or is it a horrid nightmare? Am I finally going to collapse? NO. NO. Bella. They can’t, they won’t take it, take you! The Kiss is forbidden. My mind is screaming at me.

But I’m still lying on the cold, stone floor.

Suddenly, a voice, a voice I remember from somewhere, some past, calls. Barks orders. The snake, the Dementor, hisses, but floats away.

A solid arm grabs me, and I can see the face. The stone floor seeps away. I’m standing, not lying down as I thought.

My own recognition hits me like a slap. I’m almost totally cognizant, or as much as one can be after years in Azkaban prison, and I am mortified. My pride, self-pride, is smashed into thousands of pieces at my shame.

He walks me out, past the hellish cells around me.

I walk out the iron-work gates, the gates I was sent through countless years ago. The sharp memory stirs a long-dormant rage inside of me. My fingers itch for my wand, and finally, the dull sunlight hits me in the face.

~5 points to Gryffindor

[Colores]

Name: Colores
House: Hufflepuff
Title: To Live Here is to Die
Drabble: Her Eyes by hansolohpfrk
Why?: When I read this drabble, I felt connected to the human side of Azkaban; the people there, even people like Narcissa Malfoy, are still human beings at heart. The drabble explored the perspective of a guard who talked to Narcissa, and when I read it, I wanted to write something from Narcissa's perspective.
Warnings: Character death, implied suicide
Words: 373


To live here is to die. Though I breathe, I know that my soul is no longer living, my soul is no longer breathing. The life has been sucked out of me. I am an empty shell, a remainder of what has been divided out of me, a reminder to myself of what I used to be.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, drinking in the scents around her.

To live here is to feel nothing but pain. I feel the Dementors around me, taking from me what I try so hard to retain. They are relentless, evil creatures, and I can no longer fight them. You will never know the pain that they cause me for I cannot describe it as anything but pain. They have stolen from me any other words that I might have used to describe this feeling. This feeling surrounds me, consumes me, takes me into its cold arms, and refuses to let me free.

She thought only of her son, the only face she could still remember, though his name had since been stolen from her.

To live here is to drown. I am drowning in despair; I am asphyxiated and intoxicated by the depths of death around me. There is nothing, nothing left for me. I am drowning in the pool of life; it will take me down with it. I can no longer see the surface; I can no longer see the light. I wonder if I will ever break the surface of the water again in life. If not, I know I must do so in death.

She prepared herself for what she was about to do, the chance she was about to take.

And so, I repeat this to myself as I make what will be the last decision of my life.

To live here is to drown.

The blood forming around her head was her indication of her life about to leave her; she had chosen to drown by doing this…

To live here is to feel nothing but pain.

The pain from the impact when her head hit the wall was the only human feeling left inside of her…

To live here is to die.

She was dying…


~ 5 points to Hufflepuff

[butter_beer_drinker]

Name: butter_beer_drinker
House: Gryffindor
Title: More than Expected
Drabble you’re responding to: What Was Expected by Sly Severus
Why? I am writing a story about an arranged marriage and it is in first person POV like this. Also, even though he comes across as a jerk now, Lucius was young once.
Warnings: Lucius in love
Words: 467
It is done, finally. Her family has just notified me that Narcissa has agreed to our union. It did not take her long to see that my offer was genuine and that we will be a good match. She is slim, beautiful, graceful, well-mannered, well-bred, and soft spoken; the attributes of a true lady. She will bring much to my family and together we will produce children with extraordinary looks and charm. Our name will be on the lips of everyone; we will make a beautiful couple and she will be the perfect mother.

She is young now and uncertain of her future but she will soon see that hers’ will be a life envied by many. I will shower her with jewels and gifts and a glorious mansion for her to run. She will lack for nothing; I will give her whatever her heart desires. She will have many house-elves to do everything for her and she will not have to sully her hands. She will become a lady of leisure, she will not even have to finish school.

I know she truly wishes to teach but my wife will not work! It was a silly dream and there is no need, I hope soon she will be with child anyway. She will be happy here and soon she will love me too. I have loved her from the moment I first saw her. The day her parents brought her here to Malfoy Manor, her beauty overwhelmed me. Unlike her sister who is dark, Narcissa’s porcelain skin haunts my dreams and I ache with the need for her to be with me. Her long blond hair waves to me in the breeze and I may loose myself in her liquid blue eyes. Her aristocratic chin tilts up and she looks down on all those who are beneath her, she will wear the Malfoy name with honor.

It will not be long; the wedding is soon. My Master has notified me that Narcissa will be a good mate for me, I am grateful that he approves. I could not tell him I have fallen in love with her. My Master expects us to marry only Purebloods and pointed me in her direction; he does not care for love, only loyalty. Her sister is loyal to him and so Narcissa shall be too. Bellatrix may have urged her sister to accept my offer but it was with the best of intents. She knows that her precious Cissy will be well cared for and out of the reach of any Mudblood or Traitors who may desire her. A rare jewel such as Narcissa would be wasted on one such as Arthur Weasley, he was a fool to even talk to her.

She is far more than I ever expected.

~ 5 points to the Lions

[Colores]

Name: Colores
House: Hufflepuff
Title: One of Us
Drabble: We Are Not Afraid by crazy_purple_hp_freak
Why: I felt that this drabble was incredibly well written and would be a perfect opportunity for me to try writing something in a different voice.
Warnings: none
Words: 451

If you can last here a day, then you are like the others. In that day, you will learn our work; you will know what we do. You will learn our purpose, our reason for being, our reason for fighting. You will learn what it is like to work in our office.

If you can last here a week, then you can be accepted. We have a community of people, and we are not always so welcoming to the new people moving up. In that week, you will learn more than you’d ever want to know about fighting, about killing, about love, and about death. You will learn what it is like to be one of us, but only what it is like. You are not one of us yet.

If you can last here a month, then you can come with us. You have proven yourself to be strong enough to make it on this journey, and you are now allowed to come with us. You will see some action; you will do more than just learn by the book. You will learn by experience. You will come out and fight with us; you will see what it is really like to be one of us.

If you can last here a year, then you can have our respect. Even fewer make it this far in the training. Not everyone can put up with the death, with the tragedy, with what we see every day. Not everyone can stomach the scenes that we have to manage, and the tasks that we are forced to perform. Not everyone can do it. But you have. You have, and for that, you have our respect.

When you understand what it’s like, then you are one of us. When you know what it’s like to see a comrade fall down dead beside you, then you are one of us. When you see your best friend tortured by the Dark Lord or the Death Eaters, then you are one of us. When you experience death for yourself, when you realize, recognize, accept that you are in a situation that may result in your death, then you are one of us.

We are not afraid to fight.

When you are willing to fight beside us to the death, when you are willing to die for our cause, then you are one of us.

We are not afraid to die.

When you understand death, when you have experienced it for yourself, then you are one of us.

We are not afraid.

And if you should die while on the job, then you are the more than one of us.

You are the one that died for us.

Mithril Says: Wow. 10 points to Hufflepuff

[dragonwings]

Name: dragonwings
House: Gryffindor!
Title: Relief is Short-Lived
Drabble you’re responding to: Relief by Cheslin
Why? I chose this one because I like writing about Nymphadora and I've always wanted to write about her as a toddler. I also wanted to show her fierce loyalty to her friends and her cleverness (well, c'mon for a five year old.) And also how although her powers are cool, it must have gotten her into a lot of trouble when she was a kid.
Warnings: none
Words: 500

“Nymmie!” A young girl with golden hair ran towards Nymphadora.

“Nymmie?” Nymphadora giggled. “My name is Nym-pa-doo-ray. Nym-pha-do-re?” She sounded it out and giggled along with the other girl.

“I like Nymmie. It isn’t hard like your other name.” The blonde girl said.

“Me too. Want to go play on the swings, Ashley?” ‘Nymmie’ asked hopefully, putting down her pail and shovel.

“Nuh uh. I can’t.”

“Why?” Nymmie asked.

“My mommy said no. Lookie- my leg has a boo-boo on it from the slide.” She held out the scabby scrape for Nymmie to see.

“Cool! I got hurt too one time, on the slide. But my mommy made it all better so I didn’t get to have a scab like you. Why can’t you play with me?”

“My mommy said that I have to move.” Ashley said sadly.

“To where?” Nymmie felt like she had just dropped her cookie in the sand. Ashley? Leave? But she couldn’t…

“My daddy said that we were going to Au-trail-eeya.” Ashley’s eyes watered. “I don’t wanna move to Au-trail-eeya, Nymmie!”

Nymmie put down her shovel and climbed out of the sand box. She sat on the grass next to the swings and thought. And thought. And thought. Finally, five year old Nymphadora Tonks came up with a solution.

“I’ll go to Au-trail-eeya for you! Watch me!” She screwed her face up and after a minute of squinting, she morphed into a copy of Ashley.

“You can hide under the table while I go to you house. Then I’ll escape and we can runaway to… Iceland.” Nymmie said firmly. “Then your parents will be so sorry that they tried to make you move that you’ll have to stay here.”

“Ashley, sweetheart!”


“Hide!” Nymmie urged. Ashley toddled towards a picnic bench and hid.

“There you are, Ashley!” A round-faced, smiling brunette picked up Nymmie and kissed her forehead. “Did you say goodbye to Nymphadora?”

Nymmie nodded.

“Good girl. You’ll see her again someday when you go to Hogwarts like your brother. Now let’s go get your backpack. We have a plane to catch in two hours.”

She put Nymmie down and headed towards the cubbies. Nymmie followed eagerly after her. Ashley’s mom had chocolate biscuits in her purse! She trotted to try and keep up but tripped and fell.

“AAHHHHOOOOWWWWWWWWW!” She wailed. All pretense of being Ashley faded away.

“Nymphadora?” Ashley’s mother gasped. “Oh god, where’s Ashley? Wait, are you alright darling?”

“I WANT MY MOMMY!” she wailed out even louder.

“Oh, oh, look! See? There’s your mommy!” Andi Tonks had just Apparated at the door of the daycare. She swooped down upon Nymmie and hugged her close.

“Show me where it hurts… There’s a good girl.” Andi soothed. Ashley ran in from the playground and ran to Nymmie.

“I’m, I’m sorry, Ashley.” Nymmie sobbed.

“It’s okay, Nymmie.” Ashley was crying now too. “I’d miss my mommy too much.”

Nymmie wretched herself out of Andi’s grasp and held her friend tight.

“I <i>will</i> see you again someday.” She whispered fiercely. “I promise.”


5 points to Gryffindor.

[LucillaJoanna]

Name: LucillaJoanna
House: Hufflepuff and Sparkly-poo!
Title: Release
Drabble you’re responding to: Alone on Christmas by Gonz
Why? (what inspired you to respond to it, what did you like most about it, etc) The two authors (Gonz responded to MadamaMarauder) handled the second person POV with flying colors. I couldn't resist trying it myself. The glint of the drabbles pushed me on for this, my chance to write about Sirius for a change. While writing this drabble response I surprised myself, Sirius's experience was ten times more intense, if gone through in one's own thoughts and feelings.
Warnings: none
Words: 284


For the first time since they threw you here to rot and fester like a sore, you do feel like a wound. You wish to bleed, to ooze, to explode—anything!—just to let out the pressure of fury and pain inside you.

A dozen years you have been quiet, but suddenly fate pokes you, at the very core, where the injury was still throbbing and will forever throb.

Harry, James and Lily’s son, not safe.

Wormtail, James and Lily’s traitor, not away.

Thoughts swirl with madness in your mind; where the madness begins and where the thoughts end was a Gordian knot you will not even venture to untie. They warm you. Those hooded fiends guarding you could not put it out.

Harry, James and Lily’s son, needing you.

Wormtail, James and Lily’s traitor, fearing you.

For the first time since they threw you here to rot and fester like a sore, you burst.

But it was an inward burst, an imploding, from the sudden return of forces you had long thought had been sucked out of you.

Those hooded fiends snaring you could no longer hold you.

Water swirled with madness around your body. Where the sea begins and where the madness ends was a garment you relish with bliss.

Harry, James and Lily’s son, meeting you.

Wormtail, James and Lily’s traitor, begging your mercy.

For the first time since they threw you there to rot and fester like a sore, you open.

You let all the fury and pain out.

You let all the infection of power back in.

You could hear your heart beating.

And realize it was the surf thumping land untainted by those hooded fiends now far behind you.

Nice. 5 points to Hufflepuff.

[MrsRuebeusHagridDursley]

Name: MrsRuebeusHagridDursley/Morgan
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Father's Anger, Daughter's Fury
Drabble you’re responding to: StaceyLC, Shamed
Why? Well, I was reading the drabble, and the bunny bounced. I thought it was well written, and that I had something great to work with.
Warnings: None.
Words: 477 *whew*

I took Stacey's drabble and rewrote it in a different POV.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, feeling my anger creep upon me. I knew she thought she was helping, but that was just ridiculous. I’ve seen things I’ve never told her, seen that these things just don’t work.

“What do you mean, Papa.”

Bellatrix was trying her best not to appear angry, but her eyes betrayed her.

“That band is just common riffraff,” I explained. I tried to explain to her that it would harm our image to be seen in such lowly company.

She argued, and then reminded me of my mark. My mark, the mark of my mistakes, of my past.

“I saw Grindewald do it, and there are still half-bloods and filth in our world,” I spat. It won’t work. Nothing like this ever works. “This will be no different. He will fall, you will bring us shame.”

“He will not fall,” Bella said.

I saw something flash across her face. A look of uncertainty, like she was just repeating something she was told. Then something clicked in my mind. “Rudolphus. He’s joined too, hasn’t he?”

Bella did not answer, but still confirmed my suspicions.

Typical Bella. Blindly following, lacking the capability to make her own decision, basing them around others. I voiced my thoughts, and Bella blew.

“Rudolphus and I are more concerned about the salvation of our race than you, it would seem!” “How dare you denounce our union? I will be a Lestrange, and when the Dark Lord is victorious-”

God my daughter was dramatic. I had to interrupt. Bella had forgotten some people in her plan. “Have you not thought of your mother in this? Or your sister?” I reminded her of our ruin, of Andromeda. I thought it would get to her, and it worked.

“Enough! I will not tolerate it!” she yelled brandishing her wand.

Boy, what a temper. Well, I have one too. “Already they’ve changed you. Already you’re in too deep. How long have you hidden this?”

Bellatrix laughed, rolling up her sleeve and showing her forearm. “Long enough. You will see. “He will be the greatest wizard the world will ever see. He has already gone farther than anyone, even Grindelwald, has dared to go. He will save us. And you will come crawling to me for forgiveness on that day. And I may not be willing to give it. It is you who has shamed us. I am willing to fight, to do whatever it takes to preserve the purity of our race, while you do nothing but sit back and let it be destroyed!” With that, Bella stormed out of her room. I followed and she turned again. “I wonder, Papa, what you will think of Narcissa when she marries a Death Eater, since you apparently think so little of me.”

And then she was gone, leaving me to dwell on my thoughts alone.

Mithril Says: Five points to Hufflepuff!

[kumydabookworm]

Been meaning to post ny drabbkes for a while...sort of forgot. :o Hee.

Name: kumydabookworm
House: Gryffindor
Title: Living on Hope
Drabble you’re responding to: Who Will Lift Them Up? by coppercurls
Why? I wanted to try a new character. This seemed perfect. :)
Warnings: Violence
Word Count: 256

She knew she shouldn't. It was wrong - it was terrible of her. This boy had probably killed people she knew, people she mourned. But he was just a boy - just as she was just a girl. Everyone lost their way in this war.

She couldn't help but think if she had been in his place, what she would have done. If she had parents who were Death Eaters, would she be working for the Order still? She would have been wearing a Dark Mark, just as he was now. She wouldn't have even had the courage to realize her mistake as he was now.

At least, she hoped he was. Otherwise, she was helping the enemy. She was killing her own friends, her own family. She couldn't help but believe his earnest brown eyes, though. They seemed to beg her for forgiveness just as his tongue pleaded for help.

"Please, Susan..."

She waved her wand, healing his newest wounds. "Blaise, be careful."

He brushed cool, dry lips across her cheekbone. "Thank you."

She bit her lip, wanting to grab his hand and keep him close. Here, on the right side, where he would be safe. Would he? They would kill him as soon as look at him because of the brand he wears.

Reluctantly, she let him pass. He had seen his mistake. He was on their side, and she should help him. He was just a boy - the same age as her. He had to be telling her the truth.

She hoped.

Name: kumydabookworm
House: Gryffindor
Title: Unwanted
Drabble you’re responding to: Untitled by Loralie (Severus/Lily drabble)
Why? I wanted to write a Severus/Lily. I liked the idea of Severus changing.
Warnings: Prejudice
Word Count: 231

He watched her with her sparkling green eyes. They attracted him even now, even after he had pushed her kindnesses away. He couldn't bear it. The blood running through her veins was dirty; Lucius had told him that over and over again. His father had told him over and over again. Everyone told him.

She was wrong.

But how could she be? How could a girl so beautiful be unpure? How could eyes so green be...tainted? His own black eyes were undoubtedly more dirtied than her own. His crooked, yellow smile could not be better than her radiant grin.

How could such joy be adulterated? Could the place from which she came - the womb abandoned sixteen years ago - really make her untouchable. It is the womb that gave her life. Her very life comes from a tainted woman - her very life is tainted. It must be this way.

Severus Snape bit his lip. He could not bear it.

He swept away, caught up in his own dark rage, ignoring the outside world and burying his hooked nose into a book where all his troubles could be escaped. She could never be his - she didn't deserve to be with him. She could never be beautiful; she could never be loved.

Somehow, he couldn't help but feel that he was the unworthy one, no matter what anyone said about blood.


Fifteen points to Gryffindor!

[hpluver365]

Name: hpluver365
House: Gryffindor
Title: The Prisoners of Azkaban
Drabble you’re responding to: Her Eyes by hansolohpfrk
Why? The drabble was extremely moving and I saw so much potential for a response drabble.
Warnings: It's kind of dark...
Word Count: 322

He never left Azkaban. He spent his life there, with the convicts of the Wizarding World. They were the only ones who interested him, the only ones who were different. They were the ones that had the will, the power, the bravery to go against a strong force such as the Ministry. This was something he had never been able to acclaim to, but then again, the force he went against was stronger than any other in the world, the force he went against, was Lord Voldemort.

Every time the Ministry pulled their little wooden rowboat up on the rocks, he could hear the clinking of chains and shuffling of feet as another prisoner was guided up the rocks to Azkaban. He was always waiting at the front door to take the criminal to a cell. He supervised the entire facility, yet he always performed the worst job, the one no one else wanted to do. If he didn’t, he would never get to see which prisoner’s carried the Dark Mark.

Those were the ones quickly hauled all the way to the far side of the building, where he never went, never had to see them. They brought back memories, bad memories he wanted to forget, but never could.

There was a time when he would visit her gravestone every week, and every week, he would see the ghost of the boy with her eyes, the pale blue eyes he had loved so much. He would see this ghost, mourning before the grave of its mother, begging for her life to be brought back. It never was, and never will be.

Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore. Watching the ghost cry and mourn for its dead mother. He stopped going to the grave, and instead of spending his life with his dead loved ones, he spent his life with those who were destined to die, unloved and afraid, the prisoners of Azkaban.




Name: hpluver365
House: Gryffindor
Title: Freedom
Drabble you’re responding to: Di Vetro by SiriuslyMental
Why? The drabble was very loosley written. It left everything up to the reader, even who the main character was. I found this interesting so I wrote more!
Warnings: There's mention of abuse and self-harm, but nothing graphic.
Word Count: 252
Hands striped with blood red welts from childhood days reached over and wiped the dust off the floor length mirror. Who knows how long this mirror had gone untouched, most likely thirty-four years, since the last time he had been here.

He shuffled backwards until he could observe his whole body in the mirror. Black eyes stared back at him, bold and clear against the pale flesh. Nothing had changed, he was still a ghost. His father’s words from thirty odd years before echoed in his head.

Why must I be the one afflicted with this vile creature for a son?

He balled his fists and turned from the mirror. He was facing the stove, the stove at which he had tormented himself for years on end. He looked down at his hands, a permanent reminder of those days. Ever so slowly, he walked to the stove. He picked up one of the pearl grey pieces of coal. For years it had sat on this stove, bits of his flesh stuck to it along one ridge. In one swift motion, he turned, and flung the coal at the mirror.

Millions of miniscule pieces of glass hit the floor around him. He had done it. He had beaten his father. He had overcome the abuse that had been eating at him since the day he was born. He was free.

A smile spread across his face as he marched out the front door, the last time he would ever visit his childhood home.


10 points to Gryffindor

[MrsRuebeusHagridDursley]

Name: MrsRuebeusHagridDursley/Morgan
House: Hufflepuff!
Title: Burning
Drabble you’re responding to: StaceyLC, Trapped
Why? I really liked the style the original drabble was written in and thought that it ended in such a cliff hanger, I had to add on!
Warnings: None.
Words: 179

I laid down my quill and picked up the journal. I took it outside and laid it in my secret spot. My refuge. The gap between the giant roots of our family’s large tree.

“Incendio!” I cried, watching the flames erupt from my wand and make contact with the journal.

Slowly, it burned, first the glossy black cover, the word journal disappearing into the flames. Then burned the first page, my name, imprinted by Madam Pomfrey, catching fire, becoming ashes. And then the only page ever to be written on. I caught sight of snippets (mainly single words) from my entry. Nightmare, storms, trapped, cemeteries, museums, statues, Harry, I wonder, I don’t like the cold or the stone, trapped.

Then I realized. I don’t feel trapped anymore. My fears, my worries, had just been destroyed with one word, one spell. If magic could conquer them so easily, so could I. They were gone. Forever.

Just like the journal. Turned to ashes and swept away in the wind. Flying away, far away from me, never to be thought of again.

~Morgan:)


5 points to Hufflepuff!

EDIT: Another one!

Name: MrsRuebeusHagridDursley/Morgan
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Wishing to be Free
Drabble you’re responding to: StaceyLC, Shamed
Why? I absolutely loved the way this drabble was written and just had to add on.
Warnings: None.
Words: 252

I stormed down the street, anger raging inside me. What a horrible man. Why isn’t he proud? I could have just apparated away, but I didn’t want to. Running had always made me feel better. When I ran, I was free. When I appparated, I was confined. I had to follow that one path, and right then, I didn’t want to. I wanted to choose my own path, I wanted to run. So I did.

I ran and ran and ran, letting the wind hit my face and blow my hair back. My legs soon burned, and my side ached, but my father’s words still rang in my ears, propelling me forward.

Finally, I was out of breath, and too tired to run any more. The street I was on was strange. All of the buildings were dark and the street deserted. I twirled around and felt the second of restriction I hated almost as much as my father.

“Bella?”

Rudolphus looked surprised to see me.

“Sorry. I just had to get away. My father is a b-“

Rudolphus interrupted me. “But you’d told the Dark Lord you’d be there. He’ll send his order for you over there. You have to go back.”

“Can’t we tell him that I’ve moved here with you?”

“No, because you’re not living here with me.’

“But I want to. Can I? We’re going to be married.”

“Oh, alright. Go tell him.”

“Thanks Rudolphus, this is-“

Rudolphus waved his hand impatiently. “Just go Bella.”

And I went.

~Morgan :)

Mithril's Edit: Another 5 points!

[Ron x Hermione]

Name: Ron x Hermione/Lindsey
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Set
Drabble you’re responding to: Dill's, Ready
Why? I thought that it was very well-written, and I've been meaning to try my hand at writing a Lily and James piece.
Warnings: Character Death
Words: 286

Voldemort stepped over the body of James Potter and continued on up the stairs. He heard a soft pounding going up the steps and then a door slam.

Lily Potter.

He sneered a violent sneer and slowly ascended the carpeted steps. As he walked, he noticed pictures of Harry, his mother, and his now-dead father lining the walls beside his head. Was he really willing to kill a child to gain more power?

As in an answer to his own thoughts, he threw his head back and laughed a maniacal laugh, continuing to cross the stairs at a steady pace.

He drew out his wand and pointed it at the door Lily was behind and it blasted away. He heard a scream from within. That only made his heart jump in anticipation.

Or, what was left of it anyway.

He knew he was going to kill her and her child.

“Step away,” he told the woman softly, the sneer becoming more and more pronounced as he took each step.

She shook her head violently, closing her eyes as if she were the answer. She pulled Harry closer to her and shielded him with her arms.

“You were warned.”

Lily hurriedly placed Harry back in his crib so he wouldn’t be dropped.

“Avada Kedavra! a high-pitched voice screamed, and a cry of terror was issued throughout the room.

Voldemort then pointed his wand to the child.

~ * ~

The next thing he knew, he was being sucked out of his own body. He wasn’t dead, yet he wasn’t alive. His wand fell to the floor with a clatter, yet he knew that he hadn’t killed the boy.

Only time would tell the rest of the story.

Name: Ron x Hermione/Lindsey
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Now, Twenty Two
Drabble you’re responding to: solemnlyswear_x's, When I was Twelve
Why? It just spoke to me. It was very well-written for such a short drabble.
Warnings: Character death.
Words: 204

Not even jokes can make me feel happy again.

My parents have been killed, and my only friend that is left to me is myself. At this point, I don't even know how long they're going to last. People are being killed left and right; a regular genocide seems to be happening, but the Muggles don't know. Muggles are so oblivious to everything; the things that happen in our world, the Wizarding World, right next to them, doesn't catch their attention. I'm a Muggle-born, but that doesn't stop me from knowing what happens in both worlds.

I used to tell jokes when I was child to lighten up the day, but now it's . . . just horrid to even look out the window. Everything outside seems dead; grass no longer grows in the backyard, the clouds have turned gray and no sun shines, and there is no sign of life whatsoever anywhere. Birds used to rest outside my window, and I used to note the occasional butterfly or bug as well; now, there is nothing.

Noises in the kitchen awaken me from my peaceful daydreaming of what used to be, and a flash of green light bounces off the wall. I welcome it.

Name: Ron x hermione/Lindsey
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Empty Thoughts and a Chocolate Kiss
Drabble you’re responding to: mspadfoot89's, A Kiss
Why? It was SO well written and I just had to add on. It had such an odd ship as well.
Warnings: Kissing?
Words: 187

Draco picked up the chocolate kiss, rolling it between his fingers for a moment before unwrapping the foil off it and letting it fall to the ground. It wasn't his business to clean up the trash.

"Ch-Cho, wait." His words were so hollow; so reflective of how he was. The woman turned around to look at him.

"Can I have a real one?" he smiled into her useless tears and reached out a hand through the bar. She took the kiss out of his palm and allowed it to drop to the floor, a small smear of melted chocolate in his hands. He pulled his wrist back suddenly, and she came toward him.

Their lips met through the bars of the prison that had held him for so long, now preventing him from being with the one he loved. They both sighed into the deep kiss, both wanting so much for both of them to be outside those metal bars.

When they broke apart, they stared into each other's eyes for another moment, then Cho walked away, leaving poor Mr. Malfoy to wallow in his regret, again.

Name: Ron x Hermione/Lindsey
House: Hufflepuff
Title: No Problem
Drabble you’re responding to: Lily_writes, Is there a problem, Professor Dumbledore?
Why? I thought it was funny, and it made me laugh aloud.
Warnings: None.
Words: 76

"Well, carry on, then."

James and Lily looked at each other oddly. They were off the hook that easily? Something wasn't right.

But then they remembered: he could read minds.

As they exited the office, the two immediately burst forth with chatter to the other.

"Did you . . ."

"I thought about it, yes. You think that's how he knows what we did?"

"Got to be. I mean . . . Gosh, that was odd."

Name: Ron x Hermione / Lindsey
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Fragments into Pieces
Drabble you’re responding to: Annie's, Broken
Why? it was such a shocker ending. I loved the writing and the flow.
Warnings: Slash
Words: 213

He knew the mirror was wrong, but he had to accept it. he turned away from the thing with a grimace, then pulled out his wand, muttering a spell to the mirror, making the mirror burst into thusands of tiny pieces. it couldn't show him that image again.

A young man with a scar to his forehead walked into the same room as Draco, an evil look on his face.

Draco looked at him as if he was very startled to see another figure coming into the room. He had just seen in the mirror themselves holding hands and sharing a romance together; he was too embarassed to get anything out of his mouth. He faintly tried to dust away the broken shards of glass.

He stared at Harry as he walked out the doorway, then stopped dead. Students paced the halls of Hogwarts outside the empty and abandoned classroom, and he turned back around.

"Wh-what are you doing here, Potter?" he asked. He didn't spit the name as he usually did. His words, for once, were filled with sadness and kindness.

"What do you care?" Harry took a quick glance at Draco, and before he knew it, they were walking down an empty corridor, hand in hand, out to the Black Lake.

I think I got bored.

~Lindsey :)


Mithril Says: Fifteen points to Hufflepuff, only because I put a points cap of 15 points for each person, but they were pretty awesome drabbles!

[kumydabookworm]

I should probably be studying for my math final exam, or doing work for my MNFF classes. :rolleyes: Oops.

Name: kumydabookworm
House: Gryffindor
Title: Housecleaning
Drabble you’re responding to: Mouse by Sly Severus
Why? I felt like writing Andromeda/Tonks. It was a good beginning she offered.
Warnings: None
Words: 439

Sighing tiredly, Andromeda shoved the broom underneath creaky furniture to push out the dirt and dust to a place where she could easily gather it up and throw it away.

She barely jumped when she saw the small gray creature nibbling at a dust bunny behind the sofa. Andromeda sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Ted was already at work at his newest job, and she wouldn’t bother him over this.

It’s time for me to pick up my own mice. It was times like this when she missed her wand – being able to Levitate the mouse away from her would have stopped this strange hollow feeling in her stomach.

Silently, Andromeda crouched, reaching trembling fingers out for the busy rodent. Gently and gingerly, she wrapped her fingers around the creature’s warm sides, feeling the heartbeat as a blur against her fingertips.

The panicked squeak tugged at her heart and she swallowed nervously. “I won’t hurt you,” she whispered.

The mouse scrabbled for purchase on the rickety, old floorboards. Andromeda pulled it up and stood, placing it in one hand and holding it firmly with the other. She winced for a moment as the claws dug into her soft skin.

Finally, the mouse gazed at her with beady eyes and its feet stopped struggling. She sighed in relief.

“I’m going to take you outside, okay? You can be free there with lots of food, and you won’t get in the way of my cleaning,” she murmured, feeling strangely attached to the small thing in her palm.

Or scare me half to death, she added on mentally.

She stared at the mouse apprehensively. What was she so afraid of, anyway? Carefully, she let go of the mouse, but it didn’t try to escape. She ran one finger over the arch of its downy back and over its thick tail. The mouse shivered slightly and she giggled.

Opening the door, she deposited the mouse outside the door. It stood there for a moment, simply looking at her. She smiled and bent down once more to look it in its eyes.

“Shoo,” she urged, gesturing with her hands.

The mouse turned and scurried along the wall of the house and around the corner. Andromeda dusted her hands, business-like, on her apron and shut the door. She turned back to her broom and clenched her hands a few times, wincing at the soreness of newly chafed skin.

Then, she looked at the nibbled upon dust bunny and smiled. I don’t need Ted for everything. She took up the broom in willing hands and began to sweep the floor with renewed gusto.

Name: kumydabookworm
House: Gryffindor
Title: Butterfly
Drabble you’re responding to: Survival by Sly Severus
Why? One of Bellatrix's worst memories mentioned struck a chord in me.
Warnings: None
Words: 395

Andromeda thought no one was watching. She never did. Not when she was sneaking out to meet that Muggle boy or when she tried on Mother's jewelery during parties. Bellatrix smiled sardonically, even sadly, as she watched her oblivious sister run out of the house and onto the grounds.

Merlin only knows what she's planning now. Andromeda was the only one of the sisters who still seemed a child. Her charming smile seemed to save her the grace of age and only leave the happiness of a young girl who knew nothing about the world around her.

Bellatrix almost felt at times that she had to protect her older sister from the world - from their parents, Narcissa, everyone. Being a Black was not an easy task; people were quick to fault and even quicker to pretend friendship. Andromeda, beautiful heart that she had, couldn't tell the difference between truth and falsehood. She had simply never thought to look for the difference, because who would mean her harm?

But Bellatrix saw - and knew - what Andromeda did not. She knew what would happen to that Muggle if Father ever found out about Andromeda's romance. She knew what would happen if Andromeda decided she was going to marry the boy or something silly like that.

She would never leave the house again.

Somehow, Bellatrix did not want that for her sister - the only child left in the solemn family. A butterfly that she was, always bright and bringing happiness, didn't deserve to be locked away from the light, from the flowers. She smiled fondly as her sister bent over a narcissus in the garden to breathe in its scent.

Then, the Muggle boy came. Bella frowned delicately as her sister greeted him...exuberantly, to say the least. Her eyes widened as she watched her sister move toward the end of the grounds. Andromeda! Bellatrix felt something cold grow inside of her at this betrayal - her sister had chosen a Muggle over her sisters, her family.

Still, she thought of what would happen when her parents found out about the Muggle. She knew what would happen, and Andromeda, blue eyes still blissfully clear, had no notion.

She watched her sister go and said nothing. This is the last way I can protect her from herself. She has to leave this place before it's too late.

Name: kumydabookworm
House: Gryffindor
Title: Violence II
Drabble you’re responding to: Violence by crazy_purple_hp_frk
Why? It was powerful, and I wanted to parallel the structure of it.
Warnings: Character Death
Words: 344

They come toward us - just two. The most illustrious of the enemy standing side by side ready to face our ranks. We stop at a distance, five to two, absolutely still for just a moment.

"Crucio," Rodolphus screams and it begins.

We are not afraid to fight. They spin, whirling spells in earth-shattering spirals all around. It is impossible to guess from where the next jet of light will fly, and yet we move forward. They snarl, faces blue behind a solid shield and yet we continue to cast spells, the reflected damage absorbed by our group without hesitation because we are weakening their power.

To be a Death Eater is to understand power and from whence it comes. It comes from groups, from loyalty, from dedication - singleminded and to one cause. Together we will stand, and they will fall. They work alone - each wand slipping out from their bodies in an uncoordinated, dangerous blur. But we will stand together, walk together, cast spells together...and they will fall.

We are not afraid to try. A Death Eater reaches out, out, and falls, screaming for a second before his voice ends with a snap. He tried to reach them - and he was slaughtered. Our faces sweaty behind our skull-masks, our eyes wild, we move forward. We try to stop them. They have killed too many of us in past battles, and we cannot - will not - afford the losses they cause any longer.

We are not afraid to die. Half our numbers are gone when the blue shield shatters, leaving them bare in the merciless sun. One by one we fall as we move closer, and their voices tear from their throats in a neverending litany of death. They would killed, or be killed.

We understand them. They understand us. So it is with a peaceful light in their eye that they die, and with a peaceful conscience that we leave their bodies cold on the muddy ground.

We are not afraid to live.

Might do some more later...I'll tack them on here if you haven't graded them, Mithril. If you do grade them, I'll just post again. :) *wanders away*


Mithril Says: 15 points to Gryffindor!

[no_day_but_today]

Name: no_day_but_today
House: Ravenclaw
Title: Perfection
Drabble you’re responding to: What Was Expected by Sly Severus
Why? I've always wanted to write something abotu Narcissa and this just gave the perfect opportunity. It was so well written and it just made a lightbulb turn on in my head.
Warnings: None
Words: 492

Narcissa sat at her dressing table and checked her make-up. It had taken the woman that her mother hired hours to make Narcissa's face look perfect. It had worked though, her skin looked unblemished and smooth, but natural. The rouge put color in her cheeks; the mascara added length to her lashes; the trace amount of eye shadow brought out the blue in her irises; and the lipstick on her mouth completed the images of perfection that her mother had strived so hard to achieve.

Narcissa saw the older woman fluff and pick invisible pieces of lint off of the delicate sheets of tulle that made up her veil. As always, her mother was determined to make everything looked perfect, and it did. The roses that Narcissa would carry still looked as fresh and colorful as they had on the bush. Her dress was as white as snow and hugged the exact right spots on her body, deemphasizing her flaws, or so she had been told.

Still, nothing felt right. The intricately carved, goblin wrought platinum ring with a three carat diamond seemed to weigh down her arm and felt unwieldy. The dress that was tailored and designed especially for her felt uncomfortable. The lace sewn on to the bodice made her itch as did the layers of crinoline that made her skirt so full. Her hair was pulled back so tightly that it made her want to scream. As her mother placed the veil on her head, the combs dug in so deep that she felt that they must be drawing blood.

Naricissa felt her mother fuss with the veil one last time before handing her the bouquet. Suddenly, her father took her by the arm and steered her down the aisle. Hundreds of people stared as she walked slowly to the tune of an organ playing in the background.

Then, she saw the thing that seemed the most imperfect, the groom. This was the man that she had not chosen herself and who would take her as his wife. He was also the man who would bring her out to show off to his friends, but would leave her alone in an ancient manor house the rest of the time. Most importantly, he was the man who would forever crush her dreams of independence.

As Narcissa drew closer and closer to the altar, her heart began to pound in her chest. She felt as though she could barely breathe. More than anything, she wanted to run, but she couldn’t. Instead, she progressed closer and closer to her fate, for that was her duty as a daughter and member of an esteemed family.

Later on, she would not even remember hearing the vows or saying, “I do.” All that she would remember was the solitary tear she felt run down her face as her new husband, Lucius Malfoy, kissed her. A tear that smudged her mascara and ruined her perfect make-up.


Name: no_day_but_today
House: Ravenclaw
Title: An Unstoppable Force
Drabble you’re responding to: Forsaken by BloodRayne
Why? I just loved the drabble
Warnings: Chracter Death
Words: 493

This is taken from the line in the drabble about Fred becoming a shell after George died.

Fred Weasley sat on an old, wooden crate that formerly contained supplies used to make Skiving Snack-Boxes. He breathed in the musty air of the storeroom. The room around him was incredibly dusty, but he couldn’t move, or maybe it was just that he lacked the will to do so. So, there he sat amongst joke paraphernalia.

It was their empire, a world that he and George had built up together that only the two of them really appreciated. Only his twin knew what the store had meant to them and all of the work involved in it. Only the other incomparable redhead understood the meaning of a bunch of trick wands that turning into rubber fish and miniature puffiskins in pink and purple. It was only George that understood him completely and knew all of his thought and dreams without ever asking.

George had always been there for him. Together they were an unstoppable force, or so he thought until…

No, don’t think about that, Fred thought to himself. Don’t think about that day.

It had all happened in an instant. Fred tried to block the memories and despite his screams to try and stop them from returning, they always flooded back.

It was the battle, the final fight between the forces of You-Know-Who and their own. Fred had been fighting and large Death Eater and George was right next to him clashing with another hooded figure. Somehow during their respective duels, they had become separated. Suddenly, Fred had heard his brother's voice ring out, “Fred, watch out!” In that instant, Fred had turned around and managed to duck a killing curse at the last second and the green light hit his opponent instead.

Relieved, he had turned around, determined to help his brother fight. But, he couldn’t see him. He started running. He needed to help George. He needed to find him. As he sprinted, he tripped over a body. He looked back saw a face so much like his own looking back at him. There wasn’t that same twinkle in George's eyes that there always was. They were frozen in fear.

Fred had never forgiven himself and he doubted that he ever would. In the second it took him to warn Fred about the attack, George had been caught off guard. A single sentence pervaded Fred's every though, It’s my fault.

Determined not to think about it, Fred looked at his watch. The store had closed hours ago. Beth, the girl who worked there, didn’t have the keys, so the doors would still be unlocked. He forced himself up and went to the front. He couldn’t look at the front with all of their inventions though, he couldn’t let himself. He quickly locked the door and flipped over the sign so that it said closed.

Then, he turned around, went to the back room again, and sat on the same crate. There was simply nowhere else for him to go.


Mithril Says: 10 points to Ravenclaw!

[Vorona]

Name: Vorona
House: Ravenclaw
Title: Useless Sacrifice
Drabble you’re responding to: Survival, by Sly Severus
Why? Before I got to the end, I actually thought the POV character was the character I have in this drabble, and thought it was really fascinating to explore her mindset. Then, I found out it wasn't, and decided to write my own.
Warnings: Dementors, Insanity, and Implied Character Death
Words: 369

Useless Sacrifice

She thought she would be used to it by now.

The cold, the damp, the chains... When had she stopped thinking of them as a necessary part of the sacrifice? When had she started thinking of herself as a prisoner, as someone who deserved this treatment?

A hunk of bread was tossed through her bars. She scrambled, grateful that this time, the chains allowed her to get close enough to reach it.

When had she stopped brushing off the bread in favor of eating it as soon as possible?

The cold intensified. She shut her eyes firmly, unwilling to look at the Dementor she could feel begin to enter her cell.

The chains rattled as she shifted position to avoid the inevitable.

But it didn’t enter fully this time. This time, it left her alone, and the icy cold retreated into gloomy chill.

She knew she would never get used to Dementors, but she hadn’t realized how much they would affect her when they weren’t around. She could barely remember the reason she was here. She could barely remember her own son.

If she tried hard enough, she could focus on the candle of her hope. She remembered, then, the ardent passion that had drawn her here. She remembered convincing her beloved husband that Azkaban was no place for a strong, vibrant youth like her son. She remembered imploring him to let her go instead, make the switch, let her son live a normal life...

Somehow, fire could reach her then, if it was only a single flame. But for how long?

The Dementors were cold, and with every visit, the flame diminished.

A persistent image tugged at her memory: that mark she had seen briefly on her son’s arm as they traded places, as her son wrapped the chains around her wrists and neck. It looked so much like that other mark, the one they thought was gone forever.

Was he guilty then? Was her sacrifice for nothing?

It was suddenly frigid. She saw the leering face of her son as he blew out the flame to her candle. Her son's mocking laughter was the last thing Mrs. Crouch experienced before the darkness came and never left.


5 points to Ravenclaw!

[hpluver365]

Name: hpluver365
House: Gryffindor
Title: The Other Side of Her
Drabble you’re responding to: Old Love by sayiansirius
Why? The moment I finished reading it, I got a plot bunny that just wouldn't hop away!
Warnings: None
Words: 165

“Mr. Potter. What calls you here at,” Professor McGonagall checked her watch quickly before looking back up and replying, “11: 07? It’s after hours, Mr. Potter.”

“I’m sorry Professor. I was with Dumbledore completing my, um, lessons and he wanted me to give this to you.” Harry pulled a note from his back pocket and swiftly handed it to his professor’s outstretched hand. She recognized the elegant scrawl on the envelope, it was from Dumbledore.

Professor McGonagall stared curiously at the note for several seconds before looking up to see Harry standing before her, waiting. “Thank you, Mr. Potter. Off to bed now.”

Harry nodded and turned. He was halfway to the door when Professor McGonagall spoke again. Her voice was softer, motherly, a side of her Harry had never seen before. “Harry? You look so much like your father.”

Harry squirmed uncomfortably where he was standing. “Yes, Professor. I hear that a lot. Good night then.” And with that, he promptly exited the room.



5 poits to Gryffindor!